Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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THE GOLDEN-ROD. symbol of the tribe, a crane, do we not speak of it as the Crane Public Library. As the second flock of birds resembled the eagles, “ Kings among Birds,” may we not go farther than Comanche and declare the year 1902 to be a red letter one in the history of the High School? A better financial year for the Athletic Association than ever before, the best basket-ball, foot-ball and base-ball teams of all the schools about here, and altogether the finest year the Quincy High School has ever seen? Mildked F. Rice. V; ALUMNI COLUMN. A MESSAGE FROM '82. Quincy, April 5, 1902. The managers of the Golden-Rod want some messages from the graduates, and they have asked that this particular message be humorous. The combination of words is unfortunate; the graduate of twenty years’ standing is little likely to have a humorous message to send. The writer read over the other day the valedictory address which she gave on the night of her graduation in June, 1S82, and was amazed to find how very much more she knew about everything then than she does now. It is curious how much it is possible to forget! Even the meagre course of study of those days had seemed to prepare her to grapple intelligently and effectively with most of the great problems of life, and but few doubts of the general correctness of her theories seemed to have assailed her. Twenty years have shown that there was not very much the matter with the theories, they were all good ones, only—the world lias never been quite willing to allow them to be carried out. Doubtless the members of the Class of 1902 are just as well fitted to reform the world as were those of 1882, and this is the message your older fellow-student sends you, “ Come and help us, the world is better for every effort, no matter if the effort ends in apparent failure. The world needs reforming, it always will need it, and only when every right-minded person throws in his strength for the work will anything ever be accomplished. But—don’t take your own individual lack of success too hard, and try to see the funny side of things ; there is comedy as well as tragedy in every little wayside drama, and the ability to appreciate the one does not in the least involve a lack of sym- pathy for the other. Mabel Ellery Adams, Q. II. S., ’82. o NOTES. Mr. George Randall Lewis, '98, and Mr. Elijah Swift, ’99, both valedictorians of their High School classes, were elected as members of : V Phi Beta Kappa society of Harvard University, as a res .It of their scholarship for their work at that institution. Mr. Clair Baker, ’98, while at Tufts has bee:» managing the College papers, The Tufts Weekly, and the Tuftsonian. Mr. Oarl A. Lewis, president of “aughty-one” and our last year’s pitcher, is pitchiug for one of the “LeiterCups” scrub nines at Harvard this spring. Miss Fannie Saunders, 01, is president of her class at Bos- ton University. Mr. George Randall Lewis, ’98, ranks second among the “ Fifty strong men ” at Harvard. Eight of the alumni are employed at the Fore River Engine and Shipping Works. j HOW WE GOT OUR BREAKFAST. As the sun set, in splashes of gore, over the roof of the ice house I was sitting on the edge of the piazza with my back against a post removing sand-burrs from my golf-stockings; or rather transposing sand-burrs. I picked them oft the stock- ings with one hand, and then picked off that hand with the other, and at last wiped them off on the golf-stockings and began over again. Out on the lawn the dog was trying to arouse enthusiasm over a three weeks chicken-bone. Mort was some- where in the house, I heard the tinkle of the banjo as he tried to rake out some new and imposing chords for the “ King of the Cannibal Islands.” ‘Clergyman pudding with baby sauce, Little boy pie as a second course. He swallowed them all without any remorse, The King of the Cannibal Islands.' This and other verses floated out, punctuated by adjectives where the chord fell short of his requirements. The dog had left off stalking the chicken bone and was interested in a locust on the driveway. Gradually as the sunset flickered away the bugs began to pipe up and gather in choruses, six or seven shrill “ weep-weep-weeps ” with a dozen steady trillers and a tree toad. Mort had discarded the banjo and played softly on the old guitar. Down toward the river a thin white mist hung over the grass, and curled along towards the road. Then the moon came up quietly and sat, all red and big as a bandbox, on top of a haycock across the road, and I sat and gazed into its face till I was dizzy. A flock of something floated slowly, very slowly across the big moon. They might have been geese far away, or mosquitoes nearer. Later I decided they were mosquitoes. Mort came to the door and stood a long time breathing softly and making no sound, I thought he was admiriug the moon. “Joe,” he murmured at last, “ where’s Ellie? ” “ Over to Cecil’s,” I said, “ why?” Ci Well,” he said dubiously, “if it wasn’t for this moon,” I know where George Van Campen’s musk melons are.” “ Come on,” I said and in a few moments we had crossed the lawn and were waddling down the road in the cool, velvety dust. For half an hour we trotted along silently in the soft moon- light, and I said never a word till we turned into an old wood- road along the lakeside. “ George thought he was doing a smart thing when he ran his coon field back to the lake,” chuckled Mort in answer to my questioning grunt, “ but I spotted ’em yesterday. And the worst of it is, Joe, I guess old Van saw me. He don’t know who

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THE GOLDEN-ROD. AN HISTORICAL ESSAY. AN INDIANS PROPHECY. Several hundred years ago there was an Indian village on the site of the present city of Quincy. There is an interesting fact connected with the history of the people of this village which I will tell you. In the fourth moon of the Indian year, there arrived in the village of the Operchees a runner from a friendly tribe, who said that there had come to the lands of the South, where the northern Indians had never been, a great white winged canoe bearing pale-faced braves. The Operchees were invited to go in company with other tribes to see this wonder for themselves. A council of braves and old men was assembled to discuss the ways and means of provisions for the march. A noted warrior had spoken and the chief of the tribe had just arisen to give his opinion, when suddenly the sky became darkened aud looking up the Indians saw a great flock of crows directly above their heads. The crows began to drop towards the earth, and finally alighted on the trees about the Operchee Council Grove. After a short time the rest of the tribe, who were not assembled but who were doing various things about the village, were seen running toward the Coun- cil Grove. They said that they had beheld a large flock of birds, about the size of eagles, but of a species they had never seen before, flying towards the village. This state- ment was soon verified, for the flock had now come in full sight. In great wonderment, Tawop, the chief, ordered the Comanche to be brought thither. Comanche was the oldest member of the tribe and had once slept for seven days. Ever since that time she was able to make known to the Operchees the meaning of any unusual event. As she approached the Council Grove a second flock of birds cainc to exactly the same spot that the first had reached. But instead of alighting on the trees, each bird picked out another one, and pouncing down upon it, killed it. Then the whole flock flew off in the direction from which they came. The Indians picked up the bodies of five hundred and fifty one birds. When Comanche came, Tawop demanded the meaning of this strange event. She spoke thus; “O Tawop, 0 renowned warriors, and squaws of the Operchees, listen to the words of Comanchee. The crows are the rightful owners of the land you live upon. The other birds are the pale-faced braves of whom we have but heard. They are strong, they will kill you as the crows were killed. They will take your land and there will be none of the brave warriors of this tribe left. The time is not many moons away. On this spot the pale-faces will pitch a longla8ting tent of red stones where their children will be taught as I am teaching you. There will, in the nineteen hundred and second moon, be as many taught in this tent as are assembled now, about five hundred and fifty. I know that it will be the nineteen hundred and second moon because there were nine hundred and fifty birds in each flock. Where our village is now will be built a city and many pale- faces of great reputation will have lived in it and will be proud to call it home. On the stream where our young men build canoes will be established a place where this new tribe will make large whitewinged canoes like the one of which you have just heard. On this spot where the sacred trophies of battle are now kept, a stone tent, in which records of the deeds of the Operchees and their kind will be kept, is to be built. You do not believe what I tell you ; you do not like these things; but the sayings of Comanche are true, too true ! ” It was indeed true that the Operchees were offended at what Comanche said. They did not like to be told that a few pale faces would exterminate their race and inhabit their villages. Some of the more daring young men began to mutter threats against their aged medicine-woman, but they stopped when she continued;” I shall not live to see this tribe, for the Great Spirit will call me to him before it comes ! Many of you will see them and then you may, perhaps, remember that the same Great Spirit spoke truly to you through Comanche.” Thus speaking she went to her tent. The braves of, the Operchees were departing; but Tawop rose and told the messenger that the Operchees would be contented to wait, to see the palefaces. Then each went to his tent and the Council Grove was deserted. Tawop sat silently smoking in his tent He was thinking. Finally he arose and sent for Comanche. When she came he said she must die for she was guilty of saying that she knew the Great Spirit, aud guilty also of profaning the memory of the ancestors of the Operchees by predicting that the race would be exterminated, but because she was so old and a medicine woman he would permit her to chose her own death. Comanche, not at all disturbed, answered that she would sj eak with Tawop again on the next day. But next morning Comanche was not to be found. None knew what became of her. Her body was never found nor did the Operchees ever hear of her living with any other tribe. Some thought she had drowned herself in the stream; but more, that the Great Spirit came for her and took her away. For some time the tribe lived on as it had always done, but after a while news was brought that some palefaces had come to the land of the Chaternets, or what is now Plymouth. After a few years the new comers began to use a little of the land of the Operchees and year by year they took more and more. The tribe did not submit passively; but often made raids upon the white settlers. In each of these raids a few Indians were killed, until there was so small a number left that the Operchees joined themselves to the Kemamwups. Some were still living who remembered what Comanche had said, but none lived to see the city of Quincy built on their land. The white interlopers took the land of Operchees and forced then» to fight aud thus slowly killed off the Operchees. Thus, the first of Comanche’s prophecy was fulfilled. The Quincy High School is built of red brick on the site of the Council Grove, although, unfortunately, there is now no grove left. This year, 1902, there are 550 pupils in the High i School. Many people, including two presidenft reat repu- tation have been proud to call Quincy “ home.” The Fore River, Works are built where the young Operchees made their canoes.' And the public library has been built where the records of Indians and “ mauy other things ” are kept. Although Comanche forgot to predict that it would be named after the

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THE GOLDEN-ROD. it was though. There’s more than one fellow looking for Van’s melons.” We pulled up side of the fence. “Now see here,” I whispered, “ if we go together we’ll get careless and I don’t want to spend next week picking rock-salt out of me. I’ll hold the stone to see who goes in.” Mort got the stone and slipped through the fence, leaving me lying by the fence by the water’s edge. The moon was silver now, and riding high, and across its face the wind clouds staggered in dizzy haste. It looked as if it was tossing in frothy waves. I looked away across the lake whose dark surface was now spotted with silver patches of scales, where the freshening breeze came down on it. Way across on the other bank the lantern-lighted tent of a camping crowd glowed among the dark trees like an immense firefly. The shouts of the crowd came faintly across the lake. The sound of a distant violin and the quiet lap-lapping of the little waves among the rocks, and the delicious smell of the wet earth lulled me into a half-doze. A shrill, persistent hiss, that stood out distinctly from the common thrilling of the insects, brought me to my feet in a moment. I answered, jumped the ditch and hurried to the fence. Mort stood in the fence corner shaking with voiceless laughter; “ They’re up by the road,” he chuckled “ poor old dopes, George and the hired man—I can see their old pipes glowing. Here take these! ” He shoved five round rough melons through the fence, and swung lightly over. So we had melons for breakfast. K. B. Lewis, 1900. v S HIGH SCHOOL VERSE. “ CHRISTABEL. SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. Argument. Christabel, the daughter of Sir Leoline, going out at mid- night to pray for her distant lover, suddenly meets, under an oak, a beautiful lady, who relates how she was carried from her noble father’s home by warriors, and left under the tree. Chris- tabel takes to the castle this maiden, Geraldine by name, who seems to be a sorceress, because of a spell which she works upon Christabel while the latter is sleeping. The next day she tells the Baron that she is the daughter of his former dear friend, Roland de Vaux of Tyermaine; where- upon Sir Leoline orders Bracy, the bard, to go tell him of her safety; and leaves the hall in her company, while Christabel swoons on the floor, both because of a terrible snake-like look which Geraldine has given her, and the repulse from her father when she begs him to send the woman away. Conclusion. Corinxe Louise Hayward, ’02. PART III. “Christabel.” As they pace from the hall, Sir Leoline, Enamored of Lady Geraldine, And willing because of the insult fell, Which she had received from Christabel, Yields to her entreaties to be Allowed to go her father to see. Thereupon Bracy back is called, And bidden to guard sweet Geraldine; To conduct her safe to her father’s hall Across bleak hills and through woods of pine. As they go, the wicked Geraldine Places Christabel and Sir Leoline Each beneath her separate spell, Which she knew how to work so terribly well. In passing through the woods of pine, Where Christabel found sweet Geraldine; The latter endeavored to work a spell Upou Bracy which would sound his knell; But the good man sang hymns so constantly That from all her efforts naught could she see. As they came nigh the gnarled oak A certain hymn from Bracy broke Which the mother had sung on her dying bed, And which was ' gainst evil a safe-guard, ’ twas said. When lo! the mother before them did seem, Clad in a robe of snowy sheen, And wholly devoid of any gem Save a golden diadem. “ Evil spirit, begone ! ” she cried, And at these words old Bracy spied A change in the lady beside him — The jewels vanished from her hair. Her feet they were no longer bare, Unsandled though they had been. A simple angel sprite seemed she, As she now stood beneath the tree, Beautiful, exceedingly. She breathed a sigh of deep relief, And from the top of the oak, the leaf Fluttered compassionately. “ Thou mayest have but few minutes to tell You mortal why these things befell,” Said the mother of Christabel And smiled forgivingly. “Oh, holy man ! ” the angel said, “ All mortal beings when they are dead, Must undergo a torment dread From the spirits that dwell below. And so, their ruler and their king, On me, the daughter of Roland de Vaux, Imposed this great and terrible thing At which you all have marvelled so. But the angels’ good and gracious queen, This lady whom you love so well, Did pul at naught this wicked scheme, Which would harm her lovely Christabel. “ And the dream which you dreamt on yesternight Was one she sent to work a spell, To put the evil spirit to flight, And to rescue from her awful plight The holy, beauteous Christabel.